


Island Time

by kuro49



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 05:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal never said goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Island Time

**Author's Note:**

> Faint squint-to-see Peter/Neal if there's anything at all. Spoilers for S03E16: Judgement Day.

It might be intuition, or trust, or just a whole other depth of feelings that makes him decipher that shake of Peter’s head, that silent _Ican’tfixthisanymore,_ to be _run_.

Neal sees him first before the other’s gaze picks him apart from the stray pedestrians on the street. His lips twitch in the start of a grin but then he sees Kramer standing before Peter and a tight knot forms in his chest. 

They have never talked about it, it isn’t something they want to talk about, not when this shouldn’t become something they need to do out of necessity. He can’t read lips at this distance, he’s no Mozzie, but this time, there’s no doubt.

That’s true fear in Peter’s eyes.

 

It all happens in a flurry, like a snowstorm he will never get to see again, here, in the city he loves. Because this is as permanent as it can get, and he is thinking like the con artist he has always been, even if his eyes sting and there is a tremor in his hands.

Because some tricks just can’t be done twice, not in one lifetime at the very least.

He can’t really see what’s happening in front of him, not when he pulls his bag from behind the little painting at the head of his bed, and even when he looks at himself in the mirror, it takes a moment to realize who that man staring back at him is.

It isn’t shock, he’s gotten over Kate’s death, and it has felt nothing like this.

And while his hand is steady when he finally makes the cut, the rush of freedom never comes.

It isn’t until he is sitting at the back of the taxi, inhaling deeply and breathing out slowly to get the tremors out that he realizes that this is remorse.

Remorse for what he has, has had now that he is running, and all the moments in between when he _knows_ this is exactly what he wants.

“I’m tired of running, Peter.”

But no one is there to hear him when he finally tells the truth.

 

The flight makes him sick, he still doesn’t know his destination, but with that stern stare Mozzie’s got on him, like he’s going to run home the moment his feet touches solid ground (somehow, somehow, he’s still figuring that out), Neal manages to keep the bile from coming up, and drinks the wine he’s offered.

Like this is something he’s been dreaming of.

But now that there are palm trees growing in the peripheral of his eyes and soft sand sinking beneath his feet, the tightness he’s gathered from New York loosens.

He doesn’t know the feeling but understanding slowly comes.

It is defeat, it is new, and he’s never known it. Because he’s never lost, not even when Peter has him locked up in super max. He sucks in the salt in the air, and pretends he still has everything he wants.

Neal Caffrey is a liar, and that’s the truth, probably the only one he allows everyone to know. Only sometimes, it’s a little hard to convince himself that Cape Verde is heaven on hell, even when it looks and feels the part just right.

The blue skies turn black when he hears the pager beeping beneath the sound of the waves rushing over the shorelines.

 

Neal doesn’t say goodbye, he’s never learned how.

And when Peter calls, he tries, if only because it’s Peter after all.

XXX Kuro


End file.
